The Word Cloud

The Encounter - the woman's story

Katrine blew on her gloved hands, stamped her feet surreptitiously trying not to draw attention to herself, and frowned. As a farmer’s daughter neither the early hour did not bother her but the cold did. any more than usual. She missed her fleece-lined boots and thick woollen gloves. Leather might be smart but it simply couldn't keep the frost at bay. She watched her breath forming a dainty white fog in front of her and wished the mission was over.

Given her own way she would have turned up padded out in her byre wear, absolutely inelegant but warm. Unfortunately it was her operator’s way that counted as he had told her quite bluntly. “For the honour of France!” he’d said, as if she didn't realise what was at stake. “You are a city-dweller who is travelling home from a stay in the country, and that is what your travel documents will say.” The fact that she was to board the train and then get off again one station down the line, didn't affect anything as far as her operator was concerned.

She couldn't shake off the strange feeling that she was being watched. Not by her mission who was standing at the opposite end of the platform looking away from her down the tracks. There appeared to be no-one else present, but German Intelligence could be anywhere. She had developed a finely tuned sixth sense and couldn't simply dismiss her intuitions. However, as long as the man down there knew his instructions and followed them to the letter, this could all be over soon.

While waiting, she reflected on her mission. It occurred to her that the man was probably confused and frightened but an initial empathy with his plight soon gave way to irritation. Katrine really didn't care much for Jews. She considered their religion fussy, obsessive about rules, and not encouraging to outsiders. Not like her beloved Catholicism with its huge dark spaces and candle-lit sense of mystery. As soon as she could she would go to St. Michel in the town. There, in the darkness and silence, she would light a candle for the end of this dreadful interminable War and for the success of all missions. Including this morning’s. Jews were Jews, and not very likeable in her estimation, but their treatment in the Nazi camps was not something she’d mete out even to the cattle on her father’s farm.

She sensed a movement at the other end of the platform and checked her watch. Yes it was time. She began to walk slowly down the snow-covered flagstones, looking anywhere except at the approaching figure.

When she realised that they would cross right by the station buildings she panicked slightly. This hadn't been properly thought through. The paper was in her hand. Was she really being watched? A trickle of smoke came from the chimney. Of course there would be a station-master. Friend or foe?

As she passed the curtained window her sense of hidden eyes grew much stronger. She abandoned the plan and dropped the paper on the ground as the man was almost upon her. He couldn't miss it.

She walked on and didn't wait to see if he bent down.

The train was late. It was just as cold at the other end of the platform. She swore under her breath. When the train finally pulled in, she boarded and refused to look back down the platform. She settled into a half-empty compartment and watched through the drifting wisps of steam as the dawn sun sparkled on the frost that rimmed the ploughed furrows alongside the railway. the dawn-lit frost-bejewelled steam-cowled countryside pass by the window.

Not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. British airmen, escaped POWs, fleeing Jews - did they really have anything to do with her? She sighed, and the other travellers turned briefly to look at her before turning away.

A few kilometres down the line a lane passed parallel to the track for a while. She saw a man beating a horse and she glared at him impotently. How dare someone treat a dumb animal this way? It was all very well for -. She stopped, aghast at the thought that had almost come full-formed into her head. She lit a cigarette to cover her confusion and exhaled loudly and deeply.

Twenty minutes from Sully, the train stopped again. She dismounted and spoke a friendly word to the stationmaster there, a friend of her father’s. Still disturbed by the thought she had nearly given headroom to, she began the long walk home to the farm.